Children of Two Worlds
by Omega Gilgamesh
Summary: When peace reigns, old evils go unchecked, and in this turmoil a compact is fulfilled, thrusting Squall Leonhart's son into the Final Fantasy 7 world, where he meets Cloud Strife's daughter. 95% of story takes place in FF7, so it's posted here.


Children of Two Worlds

by Omega Gilgamesh

Disclaimer: The Final Fantasy franchise and everything in, related to it, or orbiting around it is legally owned, like a slave, by Square Enix Holdings Co. Ltd. This work (heretofore referred to as a 'fanfic') is done purely for the sake of entertainment. No money is made directly or indirectly off this, as far as this author (heretofore referred to as CS Rife, AKA Omega Gilgamesh, AKA thatfatguywithnolifewhoocassionallydoeskungfu) is aware, and any breach of copywrite or Terms of Service (heretofore referred to as TOS, AKA TOSing-a-wad-in-the-consumer's-faces, AKA that really annoying thing everyone agrees to without reading because it's overly long and obfuscating by design so people don't read it, which is why we should read it, yet won't) is purely unintentional. Whew.

Author's Note: this fanfic is techinically a cross-over, but 95% of it takes place in the FF7 world after the first chapter.

Chapter One: Into the Breach

As another pallet full of product came off the line, the worker sighed, adjusting the cigarette in his mouth so it was just a little farther away from the shrink-wrapped packages stacked four feet high, though it would've been smarter to not be smoking period, since his overalls and navy blue shirt were already coated with the very flamable powdery substance. So absorbed in the routine was he that he was slow to turn around when he heard a couple of quiet thumps behind him.

When he did turn around to look, he found a large steel blade pressed against his throat, the face holding it obscured by shadows, standing just outside the light afforded by the small light bulb. 'Management', as the workers liked to call them, preferred they work at night and mostly in the dark so as not to attract attention to the warehouses.

The worker let go of the pallet jack, and slowly, gingerly, pulled out his cigarette, and dropped it to the ground, where he carefully stamped it out. The man holding the blade, though it looked like it was partially a gun, brought his other hand into the light, and spun his finger in a circle. The man complied, turning around, and a second later hands grabbed his wrists, bound them, then wrapped a gag around his head.

He was moved to a box built around one of the pallets and propped against it before a Sleep spell put him out. Storm Leonhart stood up from the limp body, and saw the other member of his two-man squad was giving him the all-clear sign. The seventeen year old nodded, then put a finger to the bluetooth at his ear, "This is Squad Six, warehouse 2 is secure."

"Roger that, Squad Six. What is likelihood of interference in immediate future?" The comms officier asked.

"Likelihood of interference low," he lied, "what are my orders?"

There was a pause on the other line while the comms officer confirmed. "Squad Six, your orders are to hold position and protect the shipment until backup arrives, ETA four minutes, do you copy?"

"Copy, hold position until backup arrives."

When the comms went dark, his squadmate, Vicks, came over, a puzzled look on his face. "Likelihood of interference low? What about the security on the other side of the door?" He pointed his thumb toward a large double door, one of the few illuminated points in the room.

"Always round up on tasks, it makes you look better" Storm explained, a twinkle in his sharp, narrow blue eyes.

After a moment of looking at his partner like he had grown a second head, Vicks asked, "You _do_ know they're recording us, right? That they heard that?"

Storm shrugged in his uncomfortably tight Balamb Garden student uniform. "They all do it, so I doubt they'll mark me for it" he lied. They had been doing so well, he figured he was sitting somewhere around an 89 percentile range, so he needed to take himself down a couple pegs. From what he knew of protocol during these tests, that would deduct him 3 points, with another two for unnecessary talking during a mission going to both of them.

And that was when they heard the door open. They turned around and saw five men in cheap business suits, who immediately reached into their blazers for their guns. The two teenagers jumped behind a bulky metal box, some kind of auto stacker, just before the bullets went flying. "You wanna get them from above while I hold them off here?" He asked, knowing that such initiative would get him three more points back, but figuring it was better than being shot.

Vicks nodded, and in the darkness of the warehouse no one saw him leap up to the rafters thirty feet in the air, courtesy of the power of their GFs. Taking a steadying breath, Storm rolled around the corner of the metal contraption and shot off a weak lightning spell that went wide, then immediately went on the defensive and knocked several bullets away from him with his revolver gunblade before he could duck back behind cover. It was then he realized the men were moving around some wooden crates for cover, and there was only one kind of crate to be found in this warehouse.

He rounded the corner again, hoping Vicks was taking his time, and cast a fireball at one of the boxes, breaking it up like a wrecking ball a millisecond before the drugs inside ignited, creating a huge fireball that illuminated the entire room and setting three of the guards on fire. Back behind cover, a couple of seconds later Storm heard two of the screaming guards go quiet, then several gunshots, then nothing. He turned back around to see Vicks, his spear dripping blood, as he searched the walls for the fire extinquisher as the roasting box of drugs had spread to several other boxes. _That aught to knock off a good ten points_ he thought to himself smugly.

Instead of waiting for his partner to get the fire extinquisher, he instead started casting a water spell as he walked up to the quickly spreading inferno. A magically created torrent of water shot out of his hand and onto the wood, quickly saturating it and dousing the fire where he could. He didn't have much of the water spell stocked, but he had enough to put out the entirety of the fire before it got out of hand.

A couple minutes later, the backup arrived, Squad Three, accompanied by eight police officers. Squad Three was the liason between SeeD and the local law enforcement, and when they secured the scene, command ordered the two of them to join the assault on the main complex.

Five minutes later, Storm, Vicks, and several other SeeD candidates were running straight toward a hail of bullets, this time holding up protect spells in front of them to absorb the gunfire. When the line of Garden students were about the hit the line of gunmen outside the building, this one apparently having previous military use due to the heavy cement walls and thick fences and other fortifications on it, Storm leapt forward and severed a man's forearm, and continued running past him for the others to finish off.

Without breaking stride, he sliced down five more men, his Garden discipline allowing him to hold back the sickening feelings he had as he killed his first, real live human beings. The sixth member of the drug cartel he met in the warehouse, garbed in sweat pants and a sweater and looking no different than any late night jogger on the street, blocked his attack with a steel quarter staff.

The man, pale skinned and light hair cut militaristically short, swung at Storm, who parried and struck out again, this one being blocked as well. The third time he struck out, however, he pulled the trigger on his gunblade, an ear-shattering boom resounded as a plume of flame from the base of the blade propelled it down with enough force to shear right through the metal staff and cut deeply into the man's chest, killing him almost instantly as the majority of his blood came rushing out. No matter how many photos, videos, or statistics he heard, nothing prepared one for just how much blood there was in a single human body.

His military discipline kicked in a second later when he heard an engine turn over. Running through the boxes waiting to be shipped out through a dozen nearby harbors, he saw a jeep beginning to get away. He ran as fast as he could, barely managing to overtake the jeep long enough to get in front of it, and as it sped up to run him over, he plunged his sword through the grill and into the engine. With the leverage of his gunblade and a good deal of strain to his arm, he managed to maintain balance as his feet slid across the smooth, dusty cement floor for a couple seconds before he pulled the trigger.

The entire top section of the engine compartment blew open, sending shrapnel, pieces of engine, and oil out, and the engine gave out with a few squirts of gasoline. Storm was able grind his feet into the ground hard enough to bring the vehicle to a full stop now that the engine was dead, after which, the men in the seats held up their hands in surrender. Within minutes, those few drug dealers left in the complex surrendered as well.

000 000 000 000 000

The helicopter squadron got them all back to the Garden just before dawn, and it wasn't until late afternoon that the results were in. In the second level home-class room, the image board behind the instructor's desk lit up and all the students from the previous night, all still tired but up and using the room for themselves, looked to the slowly rising list of graduates.

Storm had been leaning back against a console, but couldn't help but tap his fingers anxiously. He figured from his written test scores he needed a 75 to pass, and as the names and their field test scores rose and the numbers twindled, he got more nervous. By his calculation, he should have a score of about 79, a goal he felt comfortable with. When his name came up with a score of 76, he whooped in cheer, and three of his friends, who had crashed the classroom, lifted him up by the legs and paraded him down the halls.

000 000 000 000 000

"Wow, the underachiever actually did it!" Donny praised, ruffling Storm's black hair, though the two bangs in front he kept uncompromised.

"Yeah, if Storm can get in, then you really have to feel sorry for those who failed" Igar teased.

"All hail, Storm Leonhart, the most mediocre SeeD of all time!" Celene called out, barely containing a laugh.

"And I couldn't have done it without your guys' help" Storm proclaimed as they walked the circuit around the first level of Balamb Garden toward the dormitories.

"What did we do?" Igar asked, as if he were being blamed for something bad.

"Did you help him with anything?" Celene asked "I didn't help him study or anything."

"That's why I'm thanking you," Storm explained, stepping in front of the group and keeping his face straight and serious, "If you had tried to help me, you would have made me worse. As if any dropouts like you could help even an old lady with groceries without turning it into a disaster."

The group started booing, Donny throwing some candied nuts at Storm, when suddenly the group went silent, their faces serious. Storm sighed, and turned around to face the music.

"You're all dismissed," Novus ordered, and Storm heard the footsteps of his friends as they walked away. The two of them looked at each other for nearly a minute without speaking. Novus was tall, slender, brown haired with thin, sharp features, and was serious to a fault. He was eight years older than Storm, and one of the highest ranking SeeDs in Garden. He was also, unfortunately, Storm's legal guardian.

"Why do you hang out with idiots like them?" Novus eventually asked.

 _Because they don't care who my parents were._ "They're called friends, Novus, something I'm sure you have a hard time understanding."

Storm's 'big brother' held up the folder in his hand, and the young Leonhart didn't need to be told what it was. "76. You, of all people, scored a 76. Three points less, and you would have failed to make SeeD!" Okay, so Storm's calculations were a bit off. "Low scores for initiative, breaches in protocol, _destroying the evidence!_ "

"They had plenty left" Storm countered.

"You could have easily set the entire region on fire! They nearly failed you just because of that, regardless of your other scores. If you had taken all of this seriously, you could have _easily_ been in the top five percent of highest scores in Garden history, but you chose not to."

"What makes you think I was holding back. For all you know I may have been choking out there" he didn't, but he wasn't going to give Novus the satisfaction of admitting it.

"It's all in the numbers" the older man explained, whipping the file for emphasis, "time after time, for the last two years, you passed every exam, every prerequisite with the lowest passable grade. Once or twice can be chalked up to chance, but not when your scores consistently rise with higher standards, consistently in the bottom of the passing grade curve."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, crossing his arms and pinching his nose. "Storm" he said with his eyes closed, "your aptitude is off the charts, and you waste them gaming the system? Gambling with your future? For what, for the respect of a bunch of drop outs?!" He pointed angrily at Storm's retreating friends.

"You're dumber than even I give you credit for if that's why you think I might be doing this, if I were" Storm retorted, crossing his arms in frustration.

"Then why?!" Novus asked, suddenly sounding more tired than angry, "Just...just tell me why, help me understand."

"It's no more your damn business now than it will be in a year when you're no longer my guardian."

Novus shook his head in exasperation. "Storm, do you really think your parents would-"

"Hey!" Storm bark cut him off, pointing a finger at him, "Don't bring my parents into this. The whole 'big brother' routine is quaint, but we're not related, so don't pretend you knew them like they were your parents!"

Novus was quiet for a moment, fixing Storm with a serious expression. "They may not have been my parents, but Squall Leonhart was more a father to me than anyone else, and he trusted me with your care should anything happen to him. He taught me how to fight, how to be a SeeD, how to be a man. Your parents helped me find a home, a family-"

"And they taught you how to be a shitty parent as well?" Storm cut him off again, then shook his head before the older man could reply, "whatever, I'm done talking to you for now. Only you could bring down a day like this." Storm walked past his 'big brother' and continued on into the dormitories, fuming mad.

He was seriously considering not attending the graduation ball held that night when he reached his dormitory double and saw a man standing there. He was slender, in a untucked pastel shirt and khaki pants, his long, black hair, liberally colored with silver, was tied back in a pony tail and he held what looked like an over sized briefcase as he leaned on the wall outside Storm's room.

"Grandpa?" Storm said, surprised to see Laguna Loire, retired president of Esthar there.

"Hey buddy." Laguna gave him that big, slightly goofy smile he always gave him. "How did the test go?"

Storm shrugged, "Meh, I passed."

Laguna laughed, clapped a few times, then embraced his grandson. "That's great, I never doubted you for a minute!"

Storm shrugged again. "Novus is pissed that I had almost the lowest passing score."

Laguna gave a shrug as well, though more exaggerated as was his idiom, "Ahh, he just wants you to be the best you can be. He was only nineteen when he got custody of you, that couldn't have been easy. Every parent needs to learn how to let their children go." He looked up, his eyes getting a little teary as he recalled the past, "I remember when I first met Squall, I had to tell myself to give him his space countless times. If I had been intrusive at all, we would never have connected."

 _But did you really?_ Storm wondered silently. _If you did connect, then why did they leave me to Novus and not you in their will?_

"I uh," Storm began explaining, "I called you and my other grandpa when I found out I passed, but they said you were out of the office. Now I see why."

Laguna smiled and nodded at the thoughtfulness of his grandson. "And the good general?"

Storm rolled his eyes. "He congradulated me, apologized for not being here, was thinking of me, blah blah blah, the usual song and dance with him."

Laguna nodded, but then cheered up. "By the way, this is a gift for you" he held up the suitcase, which upon closer inspection Storm realized was a little too heavily built for clothes. Laguna set it on the ground, unlatched it, and turned it around to show it off.

Storm's eyes widened in surprise at the gunblade and its case. Instead of a revolver, it used a magazine inserted in front of the trigger, hanging low enough to act as a handguard, with two extra magazines included in the cut out packing foam. In nine cutouts there were .50 caliber cartridges, not fitted with slugs or shot, just powder meant to cause explosions. The two handed handle was fitted with ivory on the sides, and most of the rest was chrome plated.

Pulling the weapon out of the box, he checked the magazine, which came out smoothly, to find it empty, then replaced it with one of the other magazines, which were loaded with nine cases each. Most manufacturers didn't deliver such weapons already loaded. The weight was better than he expected with the magazine and rounds in front of the trigger, as the heavy handle made the balance almost perfect. The ivory was checkered on the higher grip, and he found with his hand lowered to grip below the trigger the weapon was loose in his hand, but a slightly higher grip to hold the long-style trigger caused the checkering to dig into his hand so it wouldn't slip out when he fired. The safety was a switch next to the ring hammer, requiring about ten pounds of push to arm, and it weighed about half-again what his revolver did, or about half the one he practiced with. All in all, a fantastic example of a gunblade, but Storm's attention was drawn most to the engraving on the blade.

His father liked lions, and often had them engraved on his gunblades. On this gunblade was the motif of a wolf, an animal Storm identified with. "Where did you get this?"

"Your father had it made, actually" Laguna explained, gaining Storm's attention. "When you were little and wanted to learn how to use a gunblade like your pappy, Squall had this thing commissioned for you, should you ever join SeeD and take up the gunblade."

"Looks expensive" Storm commented, "but really good. But how did dad know about me and wolves?"

"Oh, I had that added a few weeks ago, knowing you were going to take the SeeD exam."

Storm nodded and smiled at his new weapon. He could already see himself using it better than his old revolver. His smile faded as he realized something he wanted to do, something he almost felt compelled to do. "Grandpa, is it okay if I borrow one of your escorts? I uh...I wanna see mom and dad."

Laguna smiled a distant, sad yet understanding smile. "Sure thing, kiddo. Do you want me to come along?" Storm broke eye contact, and shook his head "Well, that's okay. I only need one shuttle to get back home, anyway. I'll leave one behind with instructions." The two embraced, and said their goodbyes.

Storm went into his room with the new gunblade case, and switched into his favorite set of clothes: loose black slacks tucked into thick laced black boots, a white muscle shirt under a brown leather duster that reached his mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. As he pulled on his frayed, fingerless leather gloves, Storm looked in the mirror at his reflection. Medium length black hair swept back with a couple of long bangs framing his face, and narrow, steel blue eyes. A lot of people said they were his father's eyes, even with the same cold expression. He didn't like that comparison.

Aside from the natural scowl his father gave him, he had a lot of his mother's soft features as well, a more rounded face and clear skin. After a few seconds of looking at his reflection, he reached into the top drawer of his dresser, and pulled out a small box. In it was a chrome chain necklace with four rings on it: his parents wedding rings, and their matching Griever rings. After looking at it for a few seconds, letting the emotions and memories run their course, he pulled on the necklace, then clipped his new gunblade and sheath to his belt along with the spare two magazines. He wouldn't need them, but he liked having his weapons on him; they put him at ease.

After nearly a minute of consideration, he pulled out the false-back of the drawer and pulled out a hidden bottle of tequila. Steeling himself, he left the dorms and left a note at the front desk that he was going out for his SeeD inauguration, and that he would be back before curfew. He actually wasn't sure he'd actually make it back before then, but he didn't really care.

When he got to the end of the front entrance, the floating stairs reached down to the ground below where the Garden was currently anchored, close to where it had originally been set up on Balamb Island. A short ways away, a man in light Estharian soldier armor opened the door to a shuttle, one that was the Estharian equivalent of a limousine anywhere else. Storm nodded to the man, then climbed inside.

000 000 000 000 000

It was early twilight when they reached the ruined orphanage at the southern coast of the Centra continent, and Storm knew he wouldn't get back in time for curfew, not even a day after he made SeeD. Another thing Novus will bitch at him about, of course.

The shuttle set down on a patch of earth so it wouldn't disturb the flower fields, and Storm wondered if this pilot was just considerate, or if he had driven him or his grandfather here before. He thanked the pilot, and said he would be back soon, though he didn't know how long he would actually take; he never did. Opening the door, he felt the early autumn wind, bringing the smell of darkening leaves, grass, salt water, and a nip in the air that could only be found this time of year. He followed the winding path through the flower field to the dilapidated building, then around it to a gravestone overlooking the ocean and lighthouse.

As with every time he came before, his eyes watered, his legs became weak, and his heart began to race. Six years, and the pain wasn't dulling its edge, and he had to fight not to cry in front of his parents. Kneeling in front of it, he read the words, exactly the same as every time he read them before, every time something he had to do.

Squall and Rinoa Leonhart

Together in eternity

"Mom, dad" he said, and was not sure what to say after that. What did people say to the dead? Why did they do it? Why did _he_ do it when it hurt him so much, made him so angry? "I made SeeD. I didn't get a high score. I tried to get poor score" he admitted, feeling a little relief for admitting it, which was matched by a sense of guilt. "If I passed with good scores, everyone would have compared me to you, dad."

His father had been commander of SeeD, a position that put him on equal footing with Headmaster Nida, and his mother had been a civilian administrator for the mercenary force, but occasionally taught magic classes. Father's battle prowess and his mother's magic skills were peerless, and even among those students who joined Garden after his parents died, their names were still legendary. And everyone expected great things out of Storm because of it.

He unscrewed the cap to the tequila bottle, and took a long swig of it, feeling it burn his mouth and throat painfully and make him sick to his stomach. "I hate them" he said, not able to hold back the tears anymore. "I hate them all. I hate that they look at me and see only your son. I hate how they speak of you, how I'm alone in how I remember you."

 _I hate you both for putting this burden on me._

He threw the bottle at the gravestone, it shattering on impact and showering the grave with tears of glass and alcohol. He felt terrible doing that, a gut wrenching guilt. He knew he would feel that before he even threw the bottle. It was so much easier feeling guilty than angry.

He just stood there for a few minutes, letting all the emotions run their course like he had so many times before as they boiled down, evaporated, leaving only the wound behind. Six years, and it only seemed to fester over time. _What do I have to do to be free from this? How do I get free of you?_

"Why did you die?" He whispered. That was probably one of the points that hurt the most. They both had died in their sleep, in each other's arms six years ago, and the coroners couldn't determine the cause of death. Officially it was 'death by natural causes with suspicion'. Every year, someone would reopen the investigation, double check blood and tissue samples, and Storm dared to hope for closure only to again be hurt as the investigator would come back without results.

Every time he came here, he ended up feeling hollow. And that was better than the bitterness he was so accustomed to.

He then noticed a soft glow on the beach down from the cliff. Wanting a reprieve from his thoughts, he turned away from the grave marker and made his way down the path to the beach, toward this distraction. The glow under the sand had intensified, and Storm laid a hand on his gunblade, just in case.

As he got closer, one of the Griever rings on his necklace started shaking. Alarmed, he grabbed it with his hand to stop it, and then from out of the glow burst a huge monster, sending sand everywhere. Storm instinctively shielded his eyes, and saw a beast floating before him. It was covered in short, thick black fur with a white mane around its neck. Two curled crimson horns adorned its head, huge black claws on its hands, and big feathered wings on its back. After a few moments of staring, Storm realized something: it looked like Griever.

The monster just stared at him, calmly floating in the air, with no indication of tension. Then the monster lifted its hand, and light surrounded Storm. The SeeD tried to jump away from the spell, but as soon as he started to move, the bright white light was replaced with green, and his body felt like it was being crushed.

Before he realized it, he was tumbling end over end, surrounded by green, glowing liquid trying to rush into his mouth and nose. He fought to orient himself, but it was like being stuck in river rapids. As best he could tell, he was being pushed through a large metal pipe. As he rounded a bend, he saw a round viewing port coming up rapidly. He pushed hard against the current, and managed to get his fingertips around the obstruction.

His body now sideway, his fingers trying desperately not to let go, he looked throught he view port as his lungs began to burn. Outside, there was a catwalk with a few consoles, and two people working at them. The closer one was only a few feet from the viewing port. She would have seen him if he had looked up.

Holding onto the window sill with one hand, Storm lifted his hand and bashed on the plexiglass with his second knuckles. No reaction. He hit the window harder and harder until he was sure his knuckles were bleeding. Then she paused, an inquisitive look on her face, he thought he saw through the green glow. He struck the glass again, his head starting to swim, and she looked up.

The moment she saw him, her eyes went wide. She turned around and seemed to call out to her colleague. When he came up to her, his eyes similarly went wide when he saw Storm in the tube. He quickly looked around for something, then picked up what looked like a staff. As he held it, prepared to stab out, Storm realized it was a spear. Two inches of metal pearced the pipe a few inches upstream of the viewing port, and the man held his fingers in a circle around his mouth and made exaggerated breathing motions.

His vision becoming blurry, Storm complied, hauling his body upstream from the window just enough that he could wrap his lips around the puncture and breath in a painful breath of air. Several more breaths followed, then he lowered himself to look out the viewing port again. The two were working at the terminal frantically, he figured they were trying to find a way to release him. After a few moments, the woman bashed her fists against the console, then walked away, pulling a large sword off her back. The man watched her, and his eyes went wide a second before Storm heard through the liquid three screeches of tearing metal.

The man shook his head and muttered something, then looked to Storm. He held up his hands with his fingers curled, then uncurled them while mouthing, "let go". Storm nodded and let go of the window, flowing down the tube for several feet before suddenly going into freefall and slamming down onto metal grating. A set of hands grabbed his coat and dragged him across the floor, out from the current of the green glowing water.

Coughing and sputtering, he sat up seeing the green, glowing, syrup like stuff clinging to his body. He then got a good look at his rescuers. They were not what he was expecting. She had long brown hair with blonde highlights, large green eyes, a round face and small mouth with pink lips. She was wearing a cream colored silk blouse and patched denim jacket, and a heavy stitched denim miniskirt over black velvet leggings and white sneakers. Her partner wore navy blue overalls, thick black boots, elbow long blacksmith gloves, and a white bandana over his blonde hair.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, chewing intensely on some gum.

"Yeah" he half spoke, half grunted. Storm looked at his surroundings, and saw he was in some large industrial area, mostly one very large open space with hundreds of pipes going everywhere. The pipe he had been freed of was spilling hundreds of gallons of the green stuff every second, going right through the grated floor and pooling on the hard earth below. He noticed, with no small amount of relief and horror, that not twenty feet down the pipe where he was liberated were turbines that likely would have shredded him. "Where am I?"

"You don't know?" The man asked, though he didn't look any older than Storm.

"How did you end up in there?" The girl asked.

"I don't know" he admitted. It wasn't entirely a lie; how do you explain to someone that you were teleported by a monster who looked eerily like his father's favorite symbol? "Where exactly am-whoa!" He suddenly got intense vertigo at the same time as he heard distant, mumbled voices, seeing lights in his vision, and his mind became clouded.

"Uh-oh," the girl said, "I think he has mako poisoning."

A moment later a klaxon rang out, and a voice over the PR system called out, "Severe drop in pressure at extraction base of intake seven. Maintenance and security, report immediately."

"Ah shit" the blonde boy muttered. "Come on girl, we gotta get him outta here!" As the man ran over to retrieve his spear, the girl grabbed one of Storm's arms, drapped it across her shoulders and lifted him to his feet.

"Who are you?" Storm asked, not sure through his muddled head whether these people were trustworthy all of a sudden.

She looked at him, a conflicted look in her eye. Storm got the sense she wasn't supposed to tell him. "Terra" she eventually said, "Terra Strife."

End of Chapter One

Author's Note: Aaaand there we have it, the first chapter of a story I'd wanted to write for years. And I mean years. The concept was created by another Fanfiction author roughly around 2007, and while he had a long way to go as a writer, I fell in love with his story of Squall's son and Cloud'd daughter meeting up. Beyond that premise, though, this story is my own, since that guy never finished his story.

For all my Zii do fin Strun fans, sorry this is taking precedent, but I'm trying to write at least a little in that one every day. I just tend to write for longer periods with this one.


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